#of COURSE I got shingles

[porcupine-girl]

So, Friday night I had trouble sleeping bc my back hurt. But putting a heating pad on it for a few hours helped enough for me to get to sleep. Saturday night, same thing. Only the pain was like radiating to my arm, as it does sometimes, but also the muscles in my side and around to my left breast were sore. Then my skin started feeling really weird in the same general area - not quite painful, but oversensitive and uncomfortable.

Then Sunday when I went to take a shower I realized I had a weird rash. I called my husband in to look at it, because a lot of it was on my back where it’s hard to see. It didn’t itch, but it was in nasty-looking blotches from my back around, again, to my left breast. I assumed it had something to do with sleeping on the heating pad and sweating or something.

But the muscles were still sore and the skin was on and off again oversensitive all day yesterday. Then this morning a spot on my side hurt and when I looked there was a new blotch of rash there.

And that was when I actually thought the words “what could cause a painful rash — oh shit.”

As soon as I mentally put it into the words “painful rash” specifically my brain immediately pinged on the one thing that’s known to cause that: shingles! 🙃 I looked it up and a) the rash is usually a band around one side of your torso ☑️ b) the sensitivity/pain comes before the rash ☑️

I went to urgent care after class, she took one look at it and was like yep that’s shingles. Luckily if you get the antiviral within a couple days of the rash appearing it’s supposed to keep it from getting as bad.

Right now the rash itself only hurts a little; worse is the body/bone aches that have developed. No fever yet, thankfully, though I think I do have a bit of the chills despite no fever.

Hopefully it won’t be too bad other than, y’know, the open seeping sores these will become for 1-2 weeks.

[iwastoldicanchangethisanytime]

Alas! Poor fan-favorite Steve! I knew him, Evita 😔

Fan art of @datmcomic ‘s Amors from the webcomic Death and the Maiden! I started this to celebrate part 2 getting posted! Don’t pay any attention to how long it’s been since then lol

Anyway, if you like webcomics with great characters, fun dialogue, and the looming specter of your own mortality then you should definitely check it out 👀

[scientia-rex]

For the most part, my approach to prescribing hormones is “sure,” but I will note that the one thing I lean HARD on patients about is smoking. If you’re transgender, and you’re on hormones, the number one thing we want to protect is your cardiovascular health. That’s frankly the number one thing I want to protect in all my patients, but anyone taking exogenous hormones is at higher baseline risk. And the best thing you can do for your heart is DON’T SMOKE. It’s a bitch to quit, and I didn’t even smoke much or long before I quit in my late teens, and I STILL didn’t enjoy quitting and had smoking dreams for years. It’s harder to quit than just about anything else up to and including crack and heroin, and that’s coming from a patient of mine who recently passed in her early 60s who’d done all of those things—for years and years—but eventually was able to quit everything except smoking. And that killed her. She developed severe COPD and eventually called to say her blood oxygen saturation was dipping into the 70s, which is incompatible with life. She was lucid enough to decline medical care, including refusing to call 911 or go to the ER. A week later, after both I and one of our outreach nurses had contacted her to ask her to please go to the ER, I got a notification that she’d been found dead. She had been so frustrated that she wasn’t a candidate for a lung transplant.

One of my oldest trans patients is in her late 50s. She’s had blood clots that went to the lungs. Repeatedly. Smoking raises that risk. Estrogen raises that risk. She’s a veteran with PTSD; of course she smoked.

These aren’t theoretical. These are humans I’ve cared for over years of their lives. I have been rooting for them—my beloved former addict, who spoke without shame about her years of homelessness and drug use in the city; my queer elders, who are slowly trading in their motorcycles for power scooters. I want everyone to live their fullest, best life.

Smoking doesn’t fit into that. Please don’t smoke. I don’t want you to die like that—not now and not later. I want you to have the future that you may not be able to see yet, but exists.

Since I moved home as an out queer, word got out, and there’s a whole apartment complex of lesbians in their 60s to their 80s who come see me—sitting next to their wives in the office, nagging about blood pressure meds, tattling about not having gotten the shingles shot they said they would. To be clear, when I was growing up in town, I knew no lesbians. Not one. I knew one gay kid in my class, which eventually turned into two. We were it. To see these women living decades with their wives and being able to squabble like any couple in my office over who was supposed to bring their home blood pressure cuff in for us to check it… it means the world to me.

[thesiltverses]

what was the creative process behind making a crab-man the primary deity for the protagonists was, like

did you consider lanternfish-man? jellyfish-man? cuckoo-man? squid-man? how did you decide I want to knowwwwwww

He's not solely a crab-man, there's prawns and things in the show as well!

Uhh, but to answer your question. I used to go crabbing as a child in Porlock, a coastal village in Somerset which has a fascinatingly weird geography that speaks to cycles of destruction, invasion, and rebirth - the water and land are separated along the bay by a vast shingle ridge and then a flat salt-marsh with bone-white dead trees (while beneath the sea itself, a submerged forest waits to be revealed at low tide). Coleridge is heavily associated with Porlock, so it's got some strangeness under its skin. Its river, the Horner, is small, but flows through some beautiful and eerie oak woodland and I used to walk its course a lot.

The crabbing was always catch-and-release but there's inevitably a cruelty and uneasy dominance involved in catching anything; the sight of a bucketful of frightened animals, scrabbling to either hide under one another or escape over another. As a kid I think you feel both the giddiness at your own god-like power over something smaller than yourself but also the unhappiness and guilt in what you're doing.

So either it's that, or it's just because I liked the scary fish on spider-legs from Junji Ito's Gyo and I wanted to carve out some space for another water-dwelling creature in the eldritch realm.

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 834 | Inspired by this post of mine |

-

“Hurry it up, Evs,” Barty called over the edge of the roof, peering down at where Evan was climbing out of the Owlery window. Evan’s movements were practiced after years of having snuck out in the same way, and even though he was much bigger than he had been when they had first started doing this, he made it out with ease.

“Don’t rush me, or I’ll lose focus and fall all the way down,” Evan responded before grabbing the lip of the roof and heaving himself up and over.

Barty could hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes as Evan gained his footing beside him.

“Please, you could do that with your eyes closed.”

“Yes, well,” said Evan. “You’re very distracting sometimes, you know that?”

Barty’s cheeks flushed, but he blamed it on the chilly wind that whipped through the points and valleys of the castle roof.

Then, with a cheeky smile, Evan was moving, carefully climbing down the steep and shingled slope to get to their spot.

Barty had found it in second year after a particularly bad day, in which McGonagll had passed back assignments and he had been greeted with a nice fat 82%. He’d never hated anything more, because he was a Crouch. He should have performed better, should’ve gotten an one hundred and then some.

Luckily, Barty had fixed that way of thinking in the time since. Partially due to Evan, who always, without fail, followed Barty whenever he disappeared in order to make sure he was okay.

That simple fact was why Evan was the only other one who knew about this spot. And of course, Barty still liked to come here after bad days, but as of the last couple of years it had become more of a hangout place just for the two of them.

It was Barty’s favorite place in the entire school.

Evan’s cheeks were flushed as he turned back to face Barty and ask, “You coming?”

His eyebrow raised in that familiar expression of his that Barty loved so much. Merlin, how did Evan not know?

“Yes, I’m coming,” Barty responded with a grin. He didn’t look where his feet were going before he stepped, much too intent on taking in Evan up here in the chilly October air, his own version of Evan that no one else would ever get to see.

Their knees knocked together as they sat down on the edge, feet dangling in open air. When they were younger, they had been separated by several inches, but they had slowly moved closer and closer until they were sharing each other’s warmth and breathing each other’s air. Barty tried not to read into it too much.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Evan said suddenly, turning to look at Barty. He reached a hand into the pockets of his robe, fist curled tightly around it to keep it from view. Not that it stopped Barty from craning his neck to try and see, though.

“Don’t get too excited,” Evan warned, but it was too late. Barty already loved it, whatever it was. Not that he knew what the occasion for it was, or could even foster a guess.

Evan motioned for Barty to hold out a hand, and Barty dutifully obeyed. A smile spread across his face as Evan dropped a familiar-looking box into his outstretched palm.

“A chocolate frog?” asked Barty, smiling softly back up at Evan.

“Yes,” Evan said, and didn’t elaborate. Barty waited.

“Fine,” Evan sighed, perhaps knowing well enough by now that Barty was more than content to wait and hear his thoughts. “It’s just, I read about this thing that Muggle kids do on Halloween, where they dress up in little costumes and go around to different houses. And there’s something about how if they do a trick, they’ll get a treat.” He nodded to the chocolate frog in Barty’s hand, which had been temporarily forgotten about in favor of looking at Evan as he spoke.

“Anyways,” Evan continued, “I just thought, since we never really got to have anything like that, it’d be kind of… nice. To have something, I mean.”

It was nice, Barty thought. They’d never really gotten to have much of a childhood, and both of their parents wouldn’t have let them be caught dead doing a Muggle tradition. So Evan purposely going against that to give Barty a little taste of that life they’d never get to live, well. It warmed him from head to toe, even with the cold breeze blowing around them.

Except…

“I didn’t do a trick, though.”

Evan just shrugged. “The world’s tricky enough already,” he said. “I don’t see why we should have to make it even trickier just to get a treat.”

Barty smiled, even though it made his frozen cheeks hurt. And as he sat up on that roof, eating the treat Evan had given him, he couldn’t decide which was sweeter—the chocolate, or getting to be there, right by Evan’s side.

-

[destinationtrekk]

i got shingrix cause my roommate has shingles and my body & arm hurts so bad rn AHHHHHHH

I humbly kindly request Wesker giving reader a hug after they politely ask him because they do Not feel the best... thank you very much...

oh nshtn i hope you feel better!!! and i know for a fact wesker would baby and care for you always <3

you stumble into his office after feeling just awful all day. nothing has helped - medicine, sleeping, eating, not even chugging water got rid of the wracking something plaguing your body.

so it leaves you only one option: comfort. now that you know nothing will make the pain and discomfort go away, the only thing left is to Cope With It. which of course sucks to do alone.

wesker had told you once that he was there for you, for anything, so you might as well start cashing those checks.

he's standing menacingly at his desk - an expensive sitting/standing one he just had to have - and typing away furiously. you almost feel bad to interrupt him while he's busy, but he had been adamant you come to him for help. you slide up beside him cautiously, like now of all times will be when he rejects you for the first time, and lean against his desk next to his elbow.

he glances at you for a moment, and then continues typing away. "Something you need, dear?"

you blush and nod, realizing now that asking for help is much harder than it seemed when you were lingering in the hallway. "Are you busy? I can wait if-"

His sharp turn cuts you off, and his brows furrow as he studies you. his glasses are sitting low on his nose, and he lifts them up to tuck into his hair. he's looking through you like glass. "No, I'm not busy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong! I was just wondering if, uh, you could- well..." He's smirking at you now, leaned on an elbow on his desk and one leg kicked over the other like this is the most entertaining thing he's seen all week.

"If I could...?"

He's being purposefully obtuse. he could always tell when you were getting sick before you even felt symptoms. the sheen of sweat on your forehead and trembling hands must be obvious, though, despite how his heightened senses told him everything. he just wants you to admit that you were feeling pain - something he had been offering to help you with for days now.

"Please, can I have a hug?" You heave a great sigh to distract from the warm blush spreading up your neck - from fever or embarrassment, you weren't sure. His face softens, and without a word you're wrapped in his arms.

this is...not what you expected. you thought he'd be a little more distant, a little more tense around you. but despite his size he's so gentle where he splays a large hand across your back, the other coming to cup the back of your head and press you to his chest. it takes you a moment, but you eagerly bury your face into his shirt. soft fabric rubs against your cheek while you breathe in his warm cologne, and it's like you never felt bad to begin with.

"You only had to ask, sweet thing," his chuckle rumbles against your face as he squeezes tighter. he rubs his hand slowly up and down your back, sliding beneath your shirt during one pass to flatten his warm palm to your skin. he doesn't seem to mind that you feel sweaty and gross and awful, because he drops his chin to your head and...purrs?

no, he can't possibly be purring. uroboros has done many, many things to his body, but he couldn't - oh, he actually is.

you can feel the vibrations coming from him, from his chest and throat and the underside of his chin. all pressed along your face and head, it's like he's vibrating your soul. the hand in your hair slides down to cup your neck, gently squeezing like he's scruffing you. it's insanely comforting and a little arousing at the same time. being trapped in his muscular arms, held in place by his warm hands and vibrating with white noise - you never want to leave.

unfortunately, he does actually have work to do. his purring dies down and he pulls away moments later, a pink blush painting his own cheeks. he slides a hand up to your cheek, red eyes darting around your face as he studies you.

"you definitely have a fever, pet. another day or so. shouldn't last longer than that." the twitch of his nostrils tell you that he's scenting you like a dog, which okay, yeah, it's actually insanely helpful, if a little weird. "I'll be done soon. Go lay on the couch and I'll find something stronger to help you sleep."

he turns you towards the couch near his desk and returns quickly to typing. you do as he says, still a little dazed from whatever psychological or biological trick he just played on your body. his couch is much more comfortable than it has any right to be, and maybe another nap doesn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

[al-the-remix]

don't think I saw Climbing up You Walls but I am so intrigued

I just realized i really fucked up that typing, it's supposed to say "Climbing Up Your Walls" lol, but still, this one is about Tommy's house being in a permanent state of renovation--he's too busy--he has years to make decisions--he doesn't know what he likes--he's too specific--and then in swoops Buck with just enough construction experience not to be a nuisance when lending a hand and applies his foolproof Clipboard Treatment to helping Tommy get his act together (and it becomes their house along the way). Also, there's some mild angst from Tommy's side as he wonders if Buck's feeling as serious as Tommy is this soon into their relationship (Buck's impulsivity makes him nervous).

“See what I mean?” Evan had his hands on his hips, surveying the impact zone that is the central room of Tommy’s 1920s Californian bungalow.  Tommy had tried to tidy up…he really had. But half way through trying to decide if he should take the sawhorses out from the middle of his living room and push the old coffee table back last night Tommy had decided his efforts were futile. He was better off letting Evan get an honest look at what he was signing up for. “It’s not that bad…”  “Evan.” “What? It’s not!” He held his hands up in defence, the tips of his ears glowing siren red.  Tommy just shook his head. “You’re not that good of a liar, babe.” “Seriously,” Evan walked up to one of his more recent projects and examined it, a side table Tommy had begun to re-stain then had to bring back inside during a freak storm…a month ago.  “I was worried it would be more of a hoarding situation or something but besides all the sawdust and power tools, this place is pretty neat.” Tommy glanced sidelong at the stack of tile boxes he’s been using as a side table for upwards of two years. “That’s very generous of you.” “When did you buy this place?” Tommy signed and sat down on the arm of the couch, knowing there’d be a big dust stain on his ass when he stood and not caring. “2008, I never really spent any of my money when I was in the army and spent most of my two weeks between deployments couch-surfing. I got some money from selling my grandfather’s place after he died, but it wasn’t much.” Evan frowned. “So you’ve had this place for almost two decades, it’s hard to believe you haven't done anything to it. ” “Okay, I did all the major stuff.” Tommy started listing stuff off on his fingers as Evan listened intently. “There was some siding that needed replacing, a few windows, and I spent a whole summer re-insulating and re-shingling the roof. The plumbing is updated. The guts are solid. And I spent about the rest of my savings at the time on the garage… It’s more the cosmetics that aren’t my strong suit. “I want to keep the character of the place but there are some things that just need to be updated. And the more I dig, the more issues I find and then I never actually get around to making things look nice.” Tommy shrugs, feeling like maybe he said a little too much. “I guess because it was just me here and I don't really mind living with patchy drywall and holes in the walls.” Evan only looked more enthused. “Look, we can work with this. I've done a bunch of odd jobs over the years, including construction. And I've got two hands. I can help."  Suddenly Evan’s grin dimmed, and Tommy watched as he visibly reeled himself back in, shoving his hands in his pockets and scuffing the toe of his boot against the drop sheet that had been doubling as an area rug. "If you want, of course, I don't want to overstep.” We. No matter what, it was always “we” with Evan. It didn’t matter how fresh this relationship was, Evan had a way of making Tommy feel like no matter what, he wasn't in it alone, whether the “it” in question was couples pickle-ball on Sundays or unpacking decades worth of emotional baggage.  It was an unexpected, yet pleasant feeling Tommy was still trying to get used to. He wanted to trust it with his whole body, lie down in it and let it slowly creep over his face like warm bathwater. He wanted to trust Evan. “You could never,” Tommy assured. “I’d love your help.” The smile Evan gave him lit up his whole face, breathing life into something small and dim nestled in the hollow of Tommy’s chest.  Evan clapped his hands together, already onto the next thing. “Okay, so first I think we start–”

[fioreofthemarch]

repast

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 880 [✨read the oneshot's two companion pieces: yearnings and kin]

The first thing Link began to wonder about the Light Dragon – once his tears for her ran dry and his grief made room for a growing curiosity – was whether she ever got hungry.

In her previous life, she’d had a utilitarian relationship with food. Link had cooked all manner of dishes for her, and each one she would eat in a straight-forward, disciplined manner, dutifully setting about tidying up once she was done. If he asked what her favourite meal was, she’d say, ‘All of them!’

Now, it was possible that dragons didn’t need to eat. Immortality, its terribleness aside, probably had benefits like that. The question was, would they want to?

Link hadn’t paid the Light Dragon much mind during his travels. Dragons seemed to be ten a rupee these days, arising out of chasms, swimming over villages, winding through canyons and so on. Now that he had learned who the Light Dragon really was – telling himself he’d known for a long time to muffle the anguished guilt he felt at not having known right away – he had begun to track her movements. Occasionally, she would break her kingdom-spanning flight path to spend a few hours circling the skyward Temple of Time. It was there that he waited for her now.

“Zelda, I’ve come to make your favourite,” he called up to the Light Dragon from the roof of the temple, unsure if she’d heard. Undeterred, he set up a cookpot and began, sauteeing a dozen apples in a hefty amount of goat butter – this being the only meal Zelda had ever requested of him, maybe two winters ago on a freezing evening camped somewhere in Hebra. She’d said if she had one wish, it’d be a hot buttered apple, and with pride Link had made that wish come true.

At first, the Light Dragon didn’t seem to notice him. He considered hitting her with an apple-fused arrow to get her attention, but was worried he’d discover, in retaliation, that dragons had a taste for humans. Over the course of an hour however, she circled lower and lower towards the temple and the cookpot, until she gently touched down, her body wound around the outer perimeter of the roof. She rested her head by the cookpot, a huge bright eye fixed directly on Link. He froze, unsure if she was really in there, and also what the proper etiquette would be when dining with a dragon. As if in answer, she sniffed at the pot of apples. Taking one in hand, Link offered it slowly out to her; she sniffed it again and opened her mouth just enough for him to push the apple between her teeth. In astonishment Link watched as the otherworldly creature munched carefully on the apple and opened her toothy jaws for a second.

Half a dozen more he fed her this way and each one she ate faster, opening her mouth wider to demand more. By now the supply of savoury-sweet apples was running low. “I’ve only got a couple left, Zelda, but I can come back—”

Chomp! The Light Dragon snapped its jaws down around the cook pot, sending apples flying in all directions. Link reached up and grabbed the edge of the pot, trying to yank it free. “Stop! You can’t eat this! Let go!”

Then he was falling, relinquished from the Light Dragon’s teeth when she roared, and he landed on the gravel just before the cookpot landed on him. He cried out in pain, and in response the Light Dragon recoiled, drawing up into herself, the roof shingles crunching under her claws. 

Dusting himself off, Link set about collecting the apples, finding them flung across the roof and soiled with gravel. With a sigh, he prepared to throw them into the cooking fire when, at his side, something soft nudged his arm. The Light Dragon, or Zelda, or whatever mix of the two she was, tapped him with the very tip of her snout, having crept back towards him. In Link’s hand was the final apple, mostly intact. The Light Dragon nudged him again, making a low rumbling noise, barely more than a whine. 

“It’s okay, apology accepted,” Link said. “Glad you still like my cooking, old girl.”

Then, the idea coming upon him with a laugh, Link threw the apple as high as he could. There was a tornado of rushing air and dust as the Light Dragon soared upwards, unwrapping herself from temple and launching herself in pursuit of the apple, which she caught with a swift snap of her jaws. Her prize seized, she descended again to fly past Link, so fast he could barely touch her, before rising into the sky and out of reach. Her way of saying thank you, he supposed. 

Later on, returning to the surface and Demon King-shaped task at hand, Link would horde apples by the dozen and spend even his last rupee on goat butter whenever he stopped by a town. From then, he knew that if his grief struck stronger than he could handle, he could return to the Temple of Time with as many apples as he could carry, and dine with Zelda again - just like they once had, in times gone by. 

[rvlse]

Hiii! Could you write something with Earthspark Bumblebee?

A new years kiss perchance? Could lead to other activities.

Nsfw or sfw up to you! 😼

Hi Hi! Omg, my first request, I can't believe it.🤩

Okay, so I wasn't sure what gender you wanted, so I tried to make this gender neutral.

New Year's Kiss (BUMBLEBEE ES X GN! READER)

WARNINGS: None, this is SFW... implied freakiness tho

New Year's Day. Everybody was super excited, planning new year resolutions and praying for a good 2025. 

Robby, Mo, and the other terrans had been busy all day making food and preparing games for the evening. 

Bee, however, had other plans. He’d been secretly crushing on his cybertronian team member, Y/N. Every time you’d come near him, he'd go nearly insane trying to contain himself and not say something ridiculous.

At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if you thought he was crazy. He might as well be, with how often you plagued his thoughts.

So, he finally wanted to do something about his emotions and ask you out on a date. Tonight. He was jittery just thinking about it. 

The terrans knew all about his crush on you, which somehow made everything better and worse at the same time. They constantly had something to say, but they had helped him plan his night out.

If all goes well, he'd ask you out, and then you’d fall in love with him, and then-

“Bee?” Mo called up to him. He turned his head down to acknowledge her.

“Mo, what's up?” He tried to act like he hadn't just been fantasizing. Mo raised an eyebrow knowingly.

“Check the time. Now or never,” she teased, putting her small hands on her hips. Bee sighed, and got up from the dusty floor next to the Malto house. It was 11:47 PM… time for his plan to begin.

As he saw you sitting there in the barn, talking with Twitch, he swore his spark skipped a couple beats. You were just… jaw dropping to him. Perfect. Everything he’d ever need and more. He took a couple slow steps towards you, scared he would mess up the first part of his little scheme. 

“Uhm- Y/N?” He almost mumbled, bringing a servo to your shoulder. You turned your head with a smile on your faceplates. 

“Hey, Bee, what’s going on?” You greeted him, a happy twinkle in your optics. He almost short-circuited at the sight. He nervously glanced at Twitch, who nodded excitedly and shot him two thumbs up.

Gulping, he took a deep breath. 

“You mind coming with me to the roof? I got something to show you,” he managed to say calmly.

You, of course, nodded and got up without a second thought. It was one thing he loved about you.

“So, I kind of… put something together. With the help of some friends,” he rushed his words as he climbed onto the black asphalt shingles, giving a glance at the various gifts he’d put up here earlier today.

They were all cutely laid out on a fluffy cow pattern blanket. Mo and Twitch had said you would love it. He didn’t know any better, so he agreed. Now, he could only hope for the best.

He watched as you clumsily clambered onto the roof, taking a second to regain your balance.

He turned to the presents and took a deep breath in. Hopefully this will all go according to plan and- 

“OOF-” He spluttered as a weight crashed into him, almost knocking him over the edge of the roof. Bewildered, he looked down only to see you squeezing the spark out of him with a big bear hug.

“Bee, you did all this for me?” You exclaimed, and he brought his servos around to your back to hug you back.

“I wanted to do something special for you…” he murmured, his gaze trained on your face lovingly. You slowly let him go and tumbled over to the cute blanket, sitting down and examining each gift closely. 

He’d gotten you a crate of high grade energon, an extremely oversized cow plushie, and an absolutely massive bouquet of your favorite flowers.

He watched you as you marveled over each item, praising him and thanking him over and over again. He was so happy you liked it. At first, he was worried it wasn’t enough, or that maybe it was too much. The relief he felt was like no other.

He checked his internal time. 11:58 PM. Almost time. 

“Y/N… Listen, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but these last few months…” He watched you stand up, “you… you’re all I think about. It’s really distracting, sometimes-”

He paused.

“Point is…” 

11:59 PM.

“Y/N, I-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because your lips were on his, preventing his ability to speak. His optics were wide, and his servos hovered in the air, unsure of where to put them.

And then he realized exactly what was happening, and his optics fluttered shut, a shot of adrenaline rushing to his core. His servos found your waist, gripping your metal firmly. God, this was too much.

12:00 AM.

With several bangs, shimmering fireballs of dazzling colors were shot into the starry midnight sky, illuminating the Malto farm.

Bee didn’t even notice the fireworks, his circuits entranced by the feeling of your frame in his servos, the feeling of his glossa in your intake. Screams of joy and celebration were heard from all around the town, emphasizing how special of a moment New Years really was.

He kissed you for what seemed like hours, his digits gently groping your body. When you finally pulled away for a breath, the fireworks had died down and the only chatter he could hear was from the Malto family inside the barn underneath them.

He stared longingly, pathetically, into your optics, his jaw slack in wonder. How were you so pretty? So perfect? How had you managed to silence and turn him into a horny mess with just a kiss?

“I love you,” he blurted, hot energon rushing to his face. Frag, did he seriously just say that? Too soon, too soo-

“I love you, too, Bee,” you replied, bringing your own servo up to cup his blue flushed cheek.

Yeah, he just pissed himself.

HAPPY NEW YEAR I'M WISHING YOU ALL LOVE, LUCK, HEALTH, WEALTH, AND PROSPERITY!🥳

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

💄🌙🌌

i just got a new lipstick the other day 😍 tbh this is something that’s been on my mind for so long 🤤

(and tbh i really wanted to make it so much longer but i had to remember it was supposed to be blurbs i was writing 😂)

Eddie always loved it when you showed him your new makeup.

The pretty blushes that always gave you a little more color. The shimmery eyeshadow that brightened your eyes. But his favorite thing without a doubt was seeing the new lipsticks you bought.

And you always let him test them out with you to see if they were a good fit. Thank god you went out shopping today.

You had gotten another gorgeous shade of deep red, Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off of your lips all night. It hadn’t budged all night, even through dinner and a few sneaky make out sessions as you had wandered the mall. He was just happy he didn’t have to constantly be wiping away lipstick stains. This one may have been the perfect one.

“Alright gorgeous,” Eddie said as he opened the van door for you, “it’s lasted pretty good so far. Want to head up to our spot and give it one final test?”

You smiled as he shut your door,

“Of course! We have to make sure it’s perfect.”

He ran over to the drivers side and quickly got in, pulling out of the mall parking lot just as the sun had started to set, the sky changing to shades of gold and orange.

Eddie drove down the familiar path to your spot, and you couldn’t wait to see the view when you got there. It was always absolutely gorgeous at this time of night. A hilltop view of Hawkins, all the bright lights shingling beneath you as the stars twinkled above. Such a romantic spot, you never got tired of seeing it.

He parked the van in the same spot as always, backing up a few feet away from the edge for the two of you to get the best view of everything.

You both had left your seats and Eddie opened up the back doors, both of you taking your seats in the back against the little makeshift bed you had made. Soft scattered pillows and blankets and some battery operated lights and candles to make sure you weren’t in complete darkness. Eddie placed his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his side, placing your hand onto his thigh as you looked out across town.

“You know,” You said to Eddie as your hand slowly moved up and down his thigh, “I never get tired of coming up here.”

“Me either,” You looked out across the sky, admiring the twinkling lights you’d seen so many times before, and yet it still felt like the first time you ever saw them, “it’s always so beautiful…”

Eddie looked down to you and swooned seeing the beautiful look on your face. So entranced with the view. He placed a quick kiss to your temple,

“You’re beautiful.”

You giggled,

“That was a little cheesy…”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He laughed with you and you settled into the bed in the back, laying yourselves against the pillows resting all along the back of the front seats.

Eddie’s arm slowly moved over your arm, bringing you closer into him, your arm draped over his stomach and your leg across his. He moved his other hand to carefully hold onto your thigh, his thumb tracing little patterns onto your skin. You could tell he was getting needier by the minute.

You glanced over to his watch to check the time as the sun set completely, the dark sky only making the lights below seem brighter. 9:48 pm.

“Eddie?” You asked as you looked up to him, your hand over his heart, feeling the soft beating getting faster as you said his name. How adorable.

“Yes, my love?” He was staring down directly at your painted lips. You could feel him adjust his body under you, the groin of his pants feeling tighter against him as it pressed into your leg. You knew exactly what he wanted.

“Ready to test this lipstick?”

“God, i thought you’d never ask-“ He sat up quickly and you giggled watching him struggle with the button and zipper of his pants. You loved how eager he always was.

You reached over and closed the back doors of the van and once you looked back Eddie had been laid back against the pillows, one hand behind his head and the other slowly stroking his cock. Already standing stiff, rock hard, no doubt from having you so close to him.

You slowly crawled between his legs, giving gentle kisses across his thighs and giggling each time you felt him twitch. You stared up to him with your sweet doe eyes and lowered your lips down, giving a gentle kiss to the tip, smiling as soon as you heard a groan escape his lips,

“Baby, please…” His chest was already heaving and his jean jacket had been tossed aside, the band shirt he had on underneath was scrunched just above his bellybutton.

Your eyes stayed on him and he watched your lips part, softly wrapping around the head and gently suckling, your tongue swirling little circles over it just to tease him further. Too much teasing always pushed him over the edge and that’s exactly what you wanted. You needed him to be aggressive. You needed him to be Eddie.

With one last gentle lick you could feel his fingers move through your scalp, collecting the hair at the sides of your head and holding it all back for you, not wanting you to get any messier than he was planning for. He carefully yanked your hair back to make you look up at him, leaning forward and looking into your eyes,

“Mouth. Open. Now.”

You nodded and did as he said, opening your pretty painted lips for him as he moved your head back down, carefully sliding his cock between your lips. A familiar feeling that you never tire of.

The head pressed against your tongue as it slid further down your throat before he pulled your hair taut, carefully pulling himself from your lips,

“Think you can get used to it quickly baby?”

You nodded once more, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips just thinking about the next few moments. Your hair gripped in his hand, his cock thrusting into your throat, and your nice pretty lipstick leaving little marks and streaks all along his groin.

It made your mouth water just thinking about it. And Eddie could see that too, smirking as he lowered your lips back down and slowly bobbed your head up and down his length, keeping a slow steady pace to let you adjust.

“That’s it baby girl, think you can take more?” He asked you through gritted teeth, doing such a good job holding back from losing himself. You looked up to him with a gaze that he knew meant ‘yes sir’. You even batted your eyelashes up at him to really let him know he was exactly what you wanted.

Your hands were placed gently onto his thighs to keep yourself balanced and you had a quick gasp of air leave your lungs as he plunged himself into your throat. You gagged, the tip of his cock just barely grazing over your reflex, and you could feel the tears pricking your eyes when you heard a little chuckle escape Eddie’s lips.

He could see the brand new lipstick you were wearing plastered all over your lips, messy and smeared, a few streaks on your cheeks and he could see the same colored stains on his cock. His favorite little touch had to be the spot right at the base of his cock, the perfect imprint of your top lip left behind.

“I think this is my new favorite color on you sweetheart…”

tags: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23

[gallivantingheart]

Use Your Mouth as an Anchor

masterlist | previous | next

🍵 chapter 6: grapefruit🍵

who?: soonyoung/hoshi x (f)reader

word count: 1940

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

genre: social media!au, princess diaries II !au, humour, romance, mild angst

warnings: none, as of yet

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

a/n: queen haneul f*cking it uppppp.

Your stomach drops at the abrupt summons via text from your uncle that weekend - you’d barely had breakfast! So you drive down the coastline and then up the long gravel drive to the estate. The promised roofing company is all over the place, appraising the damage on scaffolding between broken shingles and overgrown, flaky lichen. But the front door is open so you let yourself in, tightening the knot of your overshirt round your waist like straps on armor. Your uncle Fred greets you warmly and you get whiplash in the foyer.

“Thank you for your prompt arrival! I appreciate you making the time on your weekend, outside of the regular luncheon.” He says.

You frown at him, shoulders turned away. “No worries? I didn’t have any appointments today, just housekeeping. What is so urgent?”

He walks in line with you, guiding you towards the backdoor to the patio you wished he used more. You lived on Amaide, land of seaside sun and lemons, for goodness sake. If you have the view, use it!

“You were seen at the event at the Genoa Palace earlier this week.”

Your heart plummets like a stone to your stomach and you realise luring you out to the patio was a way to lull your rightful caution. You stall in the entry, only a step out.

Uncle Fred smiles, faint and blithe. “You were not mentioned by name in any publications or…social media? But you were mentioned by members of the court - you were seen! What a shock, a member of the Chon family was let in the front door by the naive Queen Haneul. Let the wolves right in.”

“I - yeah, sure. It was just work stuff, Uncle. I am the Royal Correspondent, after all.” You turn your lip back to bare your teeth in a snarl. “And you know I don’t like being your lackey.”

Uncle Fred turns cold - ah, there was that nice familiar disappointment with a side of superior fury. Maybe your wording didn’t help. But you couldn’t resist!

“Perhaps not, but you knew where you were going and neglected to inform any of us. If anything, you lied. The advantage your presence may have had for Minhwan’s progress with parliament would have been appreciated.” He says, low.

You roll your eyes and draw yourself to your full height. Uncle was shorter than you by a good few inches, so anything to get something over him, pardon the pun. His head tips upwards to continue to glare and you smirk savagely.

“Uncle, you know I would have been no help there. I don’t partake in your schemes.” He starts going red and you decide to barrel on and twist the knife. “Besides, isn’t my job just a frivolous tabloid column? Barely worth anything.”

Now you can see the steam burst from his ears. “I - Chon Y/N, watch your mouth. Your mother isn’t here to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. Never have. Is there anything else?” You’re haughty.

“No. But, in future, remember who you are and where your loyalties lie. As much as you deny it, you are a Chon. Keep your head on straight and don't forget it.” He rolls his shoulder back and turns to face the slowly mending garden, thus dismissing you. “There is no need for you to make an appearance at the luncheon tomorrow. I’ve seen enough of you.”

You clench your teeth so tight you might have cracked a tooth. “Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual, uncle.”

With that, you spun on your heel and marched out of the estate, swiping a random heirloom off the mantle on the way out, purely out of spite. If you knew he was looking, you would have flipped the bird to top it off. But Uncle never gave you that kind of satisfaction - somehow he got the last word, spoken or not.

You floor it out the drive, kicking up gravel and your back wheels losing traction for a moment with how hard you press on the accelerator.

You spend the rest of your weekend stewing, but only after dropping the dress back with Joshua.

He lit up at the sight of you in the boutique and you can’t help but return his beam, squeezing tight with the one-armed hug.

“Hey! You looked beautiful! I saw photos.” He says - you frown deeply and he waves you off with a wink. “I have my own sources. We had other clients there as well.”

“Oh. Thank you again, Joshua, I really appreciate your help.”

He takes the garment bag from you, depositing it on a random railing then giving you a tight hug and squeeze. Some of the residual bitterness from earlier in the day melts away.

“Not at all! Please, give me a call if you ever need my help again - or even a coffee. I’d love to catch up properly.”

You shoulder your purse - actually a matcha latte had been on your agenda next. “Me too. I’ll call soon.”

Amaide is blessed with holiday weather almost year round so you spend your weekend out in your slightly overgrown garden in the cool breeze and crystal clear sunlight working on your article for the Gala. Fanta and George roam the grass that’s gone to seed, little pink noses sniffing tipped to the sky. Despite the slight chill to the air as winter starts to rear its head, you still sun yourself in denim cut offs and flimsy camisole, eyeing your rotting dining room window frame - you’ll need to save up for that once your car has been serviced, you note idly.

Wonwoo since the Gala had wisely not mentioned any of it in person - you wouldn’t have been able to front up to it maturely if face-to-face. The texts were enough and you had met your deadlines for both the newspaper website and weekly paper requirement after a chat with some of the kitchen staff at the palace.

So when Monday comes around again, you had thought that was the end of that, back to life as you knew it, dodging your delusional family and waiting for news about Eunbi’s baby to finally pop. You and Wonwoo walk into the office, in step, critiquing the new girl at your regular matcha haunt.

“You know, for a newbie, she’s pretty good. Solid 7/10.” You comment, waving lazily at Minhyuk as you pass.

You lick the last of the froth from the hole in the plastic lid of your paper cup. Wonwoo adjusts his scarf, loosening it in the heated office.

“Agreed. But nothing like Lily’s. God, when is she back from leave?”

You dump your laptop bag on your desk quite unceremoniously. “Just before New Years - who knew hospitality had such good leave benefits?”

Oh wait, the cabinet had brought in those new laws in July for low income workers. Damn, if only. It’s all dry conversation between the two of you, having no further updates over the weekend that wasn’t work related. Your phone bings with a specific ringtone and you scramble - shit, it was from Chaeyeong, your main contact in the palace. It’s a photo of some palace document. This had to be confidential! What the hell?

You call her and she picks up second ring. “What the hell, Chae? You can’t send shit like this? You’ll get fired and it’s a criminal offense.”

Wonwoo is looking at you, wide-eyed and silent, trying to make sense of your words. You wave him off to wait.

“No, no, you don’t understand, this is worth it. You were right on Thursday - the Gala was a front for a meet-and-greet for Soonyoung. They’re announcing it today!” She hisses.

She squeaks too as you hear the click of shoes in the background walking over marbled hallways.

“Okay, thank you for the intel, but be careful!” You murmur. “When is Soonyoung announcing it?”

“10:30am, same as always.”

You grab your notebook from your bag pocket, frantically scribbling notes, 10:30am in a big circle. “Do you know why this is happening?”

“Not fully. Something about the Constitution? But I only heard that, I haven’t seen any official reason.” She’s quick with her words and you realise she’s probably in a very exposed spot.

“Okay then. Thank you again. Talk Thursday?”

She hums affirmatively and hangs up. You sink for your desk chair and huff - it’s not even 9am.

“What did she say?” Wonwoo is at your shoulder.

“Big, big announcement today by the royal family. Our hunch about the gala was right. But I don’t have time to read through the whole Amaide Constitution before 10:15.” He frowns and you add for him, “Chae heard it has something to do with it, but she didn’t know what.”

Your laptop is open and you’re on the government judicial website, searching for a PDF with the Constitution in it and a search function that isn’t from 2017. The executive office assistant is doing the mail rounds again, petite but rowdy. Another heavy magnolia textured envelope lands on your keyboard with the same wax seal as the first one. You swear, loud and long as you rip it open. The handwriting in this one is different, messier. It’s from the Queen, personally. You read it multiple times, the matcha a sudden bad aftertaste gritty at the back of your tongue.

“Holy shit, Wonwoo.” You breathe, handing it to him.

Wonwoo, not one for harsh expletives, says the same thing in his low timbre. “What are you going to do?”

You slump in your chair and glare up at him. “Well, first I’m going to find this article in the Constitution, and release this damn leak before 10am. Then I’m going to call in sick for the rest of the week - I have packing to do.”

Dear Chon Y/N, 

I hope you’re well. 

Thank you for your attendance to our event last Wednesday - it was such a lovely surprise. I’m glad you weren’t scared away, despite our mutual family history.

As I have heard you surmised, the ball was a front for a preliminary match making session for my cousin, Kwon Soonyoung. He did come out of it with all ten toes intact, despite what you may have seen. I was blessed to have found a partner based on love in South Korea. Unfortunately, due to Constitutional constraints involving female heirs and linage, Soonyoung cannot be afforded the same kindness.

We have six months to find him a wife and secure his place in the royal succession. If we do not, this does leave us open to insurgence within parliament and the other aristocratic families, such as your own.

With this in mind, I would like to graciously offer you a live-in position at Genoa Palace for the duration of Soonyoung’s courtship and marriage. This short term role will include accommodation and all other necessities required for your stay, as well as an additional salary as a contractor of the royal family. Your cats will be permitted to stay as well, for your comfort and convenience.

You are Amaide’s leading and most reliable source for royal news and I trust that you will handle this ongoing situation with the tact and professionalism you always have. I also expect you to maintain secrecy and continue distance from your family, so as to protect the personal matters of the family and state.

Should you accept this position or have any further logistical queries, please contact our Head of Internal Affairs, Mrs. Rossi Soyeon, who is across the situation.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm Regards,

HRH Queen Park Haneul I

[satureja13]

Vlad's Therapy Game - Part 3 (There is a Poll below) Vlad is still playtesting. And while he took a walk through the village and admired Tiny Can's work, it slowly went dark, the stands closed and the folks went to the Lion's Pride Inn.

He heard the music from the inside. 'The Dublin Pub Crawl' by The Irish Rovers was playing.

'We all went in to Kitty McGee's for we're a jolly crew We all went in to Kitty McGee's to have a drink or two Kitty McGee's, in Dublin town upon the crawl A hell of a time was had by all, down where the beer and whiskey flew'

He had nowhere to go and so he went in. Maybe someone takes pity on him and gives him some food? He already felt a bit weak on his legs. And his job at the sculptor only started early next morning... There are so many known faces here! Ms. Coombes, their former teacher, Travis (Jeb and Ji Ho's Roadie) and Uncle Stefan, who raised Jack. But they are just NPCs Tiny Can created and none of them recognized him.

As soon as Gia, the bartender, saw Vlad, she stopped him. Gia: "I'm sorry. You can't enter as long as your status is unclear. Go to the castle after you got paid tomorrow and ask for an audience to talk to the Queen about your status. You can sleep in the shack behind the Inn and I'll care for your horse after my shift. But that's all I can do for you."

And so Vlad went over to the shack...still hungry. Let's hope Diablo finds a better place for the night. At least he can eat some grass and would't have to go to sleep hungry. And then this cute - but somehow really delicious looking bunny approached Vlad... should he...? It's just a game. But the thought of eating a bunny makes him uncomfortable. He does eat meat, but killing the animal himself is a whole different thing. But he's so hungry. And he'll have to survive the night and the next day working before he gets paid...

Vlad tried to escape this situation by going to (try to) sleep. But when he stood up and stepped inside the shack, he saw stars and almost fell unconscious. He has no choice...

In the meantime, Gia was caring for Diablo. The way she looks at him. Is she having the same thoughts about Diablo as Vlad has about the bunny? Ö.ö'

Phew. She finally leaves the stable. But Diablo decides it's better to stay awake and alert. No one will eat him. No matter how 'useless' they think he is!

Gia: "You weren't about to eat that bunny, were you?" Vlad: "Uhm..."

Gia: "You really must be very hungry then." And she gave him a plasma fruit! A HFN for Vlad and the bunny ^^'

This will help him (and the bunny) to survive the night and the next day. After he had the plasma fruit (that really tasted like a real one outside of the game), he lay on the straw in the shack and pondered about his ingame experiences so far. Even though many events here were upsetting and annoying, they still were managable and there had been no moment where he wanted to scream 'OUT!'. So Tiny Can improved a lot. And of course the Therapy Game will be annoying and hard. They all know that. Therapy is no rose garden after all and as far as he can speak for the others, they are determined to change their lives for the better and are willing to work hard for it. And he will help them by testing this game and make sure it's safe for them. He decided to playtest also the following day and then report back to Saiwa. And then he fell asleep under the stars that shone through the missing shingles of the shack and the bunny watched over his sleep...

TMI: Even though Vlad got killed by the Killer Bunny once, he isn't resentful. Vlad's sweet memories with Bunnies: on their trip to Henford and at Beltane.

The situation with hungry Vlad and the bunny reminds me of some quests in games that gave me a hard time. There was one in World of Warcraft where I had to use torture on a prisioner to get information. It's many years ago. I did it but I still feel uncomfortable about this. Killing when I get attacked ingame is ok for me, but this - I don't know. I play computer games for over 40 years now and I am still not dulled ^^' Do other players even have such thoughts? Let's find out:

You are also very welcome to leave a comment with your thoughts.

This is a very enthralling topic for me these days while we explore the Therapy Game and there will be more situations like this. I'm so curious how the Boys will deal with them. It's also very different from other games because the Boys act as themselves and it really feels like they are a part of their ingame surroundings.

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[p-artsypants]

No, You Go First (16) The Aftermath

FF.net | Ao3

Two weeks later

“Absolutely not!” Stoick boomed over the village square. 

Everyone present turned to look at what Stoick was yelling at, only to see Hiccup finally up and about. 

Well, not exactly up. He was in a wheelchair. And the image you have in your head is probably wrong. Viking wheelchairs were not ideal. It was a chair, and it had wheels, small wagon wheels at the bottom. It allowed for mobility, but the person sitting in it was at the mercy of those around him. Of course, since Hiccup had one leg still, he could kind of kick and scoot around, though it wasn’t practical.

Hiccup had cleverly found a temporary solution, as he held onto Toothless’ tail and had him pull him around. 

Stoick stomped over. “You’re not supposed to be up yet.” 

“Dad, please. I’m going stir crazy! I promise I’ll take it easy, but Astrid said she’s teaching the others to train their dragons, and I want to see how it’s going…and I want to make sure the tail that Gobber’s been working on is right.” 

“Who gave you the chair?” 

“Gobber, obviously.” 

Stoick looked around for the man, wishing to glare at him, but he was over in the forge. 

“It’s okay, Chief,” Astrid assured. “I’m making sure he’s taking it easy.” 

“Oh, and I supposed you helped him into the chair too?” 

“If by ‘help’ you mean ‘picked up and put me in’ then yes, she helped.” Hiccup had tried to insist that he could do it himself, and he just needed her for balance, but Astrid could not be persuaded otherwise. 

She had been doing everything for him, nearly smothering him when they were together. She had even helped him put his pants on this morning. It was humiliating. 

If not touching. 

Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose. “What am I going to do with you, son?” 

“Uh, trust me to be responsible?” 

Stoick glared at the three of them, not happy with the situation, but obviously understanding where they were coming from. 

“Fine,” he groaned. “But the second you feel tired, you’re goin’ back to bed!” He pointed up at the house. “And I better not see that butt out of that chair!” 

“Yes sir!” Hiccup smiled, just happy to be allowed outside. 

“Come on,” Astrid beckoned. “The others are training down at the arena!” 

Hiccup took hold of Toothless’ tail. “Alright bud, let’s show these losers how to really tame a dragon!” 

“Slowly!” Stoick bellowed. 

They did heed Stoick’s orders and leisurely made their way through town. 

Folks stopped and stared as Toothless passed, and then shouted greeting to him. 

“There you are, lad!” 

“Good to see you out and around!” 

“Got yourself a fine steed for your wagon!” 

Hiccup couldn’t help but smile as the wave of well wishes washed over him. It had been a while since he was so thoroughly welcomed in the village. 

Astrid felt it too. Though, she hadn’t been locked away for the last two weeks. People were smiling at them, both of them. 

The looks towards Toothless weren’t necessarily friendly, but not hostile. Just intrigued. 

Who could blame them? The injured son of the chief, the runt of the Hooligan tribe, was holding onto the tail of a Nightfury. 

That was the fabled, mystical, elusive Dragon only heard about in stories. 

And little Hiccup was playing with it like an overgrown kitten. 

There were bound to be some looks of awe and confusion. 

There was enough awe to be shared, however, as other village folk had seemed to pick out their own dragons to love. 

Granted, no one else was riding one, but they were petting and scratching and over all trusting the dragons in a way that made Hiccup’s chest swell. Mrs. Larson was hanging laundry on the line, and a Nadder was helping her do it. Ingmar was repairing his roof and a Zippleback was handing shingles up to him. 

The best one was the rotisserie. Someone had rigged up a spit with a boar and a few chickens to roast over a sleeping Nightmare. The spit was connected to the water wheel at the mill to keep it continuously turning. 

“Look my boy!” Said Axel, proudly. “I took a note out of your book and made a little gadget of my own!” 

“Wow dad, that’s great!” Hiccup said. 

The man grabbed him up and out of his chair and into a tight, bone-crushing hug, slightly for the praise, but mostly because Hiccup had called him ‘dad’. 

—-

The three made their way down to the arena. Toothless nudged Hiccup’s chair down the sloped entrance, and he rode down and entered with a cheerful “whoo!” 

“Hey, look who it is!” Said Tuffnut, stopping Hiccup’s journey with a boot to the side of his chair. 

Hiccup cringed, preparing for the ridiculous nickname. 

“Hiccup! The Dragon Master and Jorgenson Blaster!” 

Hiccup barked a laugh. 

“That’s not funny!” Snotlout yelled back. “I’m telling you, I threw the fight on purpose! I could have willed myself to not pass out!” 

“It’s okay, Snotlout,” said Hiccup. “I could never beat you again if I tried.” 

“So you’re admitting it now? You’re not even going to give me the satisfaction of a rematch?”

“Snotlout, I don’t have my left leg.” He gestured to his stump. “How is fighting you now even fair?” 

Snotlout narrowed his eyes. “Fine, but once you can walk like Gobber, it’s go time.” 

“Whatever,” Hiccup rolled his eyes. He glanced around the arena, taking note of the assembled dragons. 

Fishlegs seemed to be getting along really well with the Gronkle, as he scratched it and cooed at it. 

The twins had taken the Zippleback, and they were taking turns throwing fish up and guessing which head would eat it. 

The Monstrous Nightmare kind of lingered by Snotlout, but there wasn’t much interaction going on. 

“So,” Astrid began. “We’ve been working on trust. I showed them how to form a loose bond with the dragon by holding out your hand and letting them come to you. Everyone managed to do it!” 

“Great!” Hiccup praised. “So, have we thought of names?”

“Oh oh oh!” chirped Fishlegs. “Meatlug’s so easy to get along with! He likes scratches here, here, and here!” Fishlegs demonstrated by scratching the Gronkle in several places before she fell over, rumbling. “See? He’s nervous around thunder, and his favorite rock is sandstone.” 

“That’s—amazing, Fishlegs! Glad to see you’ve bonded so well with your Gronkle.” 

“He makes it easy,” Fish gushed. 

“Well…great. Who would like to introduce me to their dragon next?” 

“This is our dragon,” said Tuffnut, casually. “This head is Barf, that head is Belch.” 

“No,” said Ruffnut. “This head is Belch, that head is Barf.” 

“That’s what I just said, Stupid!” 

“Don’t call me Stupid!” And they started fighting, slapping each other. 

But, Hiccup watched in pleased fascination as the two heads each grabbed a twin and pulled them apart. It didn’t stop the siblings from trying to hit each other, but at least they were out of range. 

“Okay, Barf and Belch,” he nodded. “That sounds about right.” He kicked his chair around to look at Snotlout. “So, how’s it going with the big guy? Make yourself a new buddy?” 

Snotlout put his hands on his waist. “Hookfang isn’t my ‘buddy’, Hiccup. He’s my partner in battle. I’m training him to be the ultimate killing machine.” 

Hookfang simply puffed a tiny fireball at Snotlout, igniting his pants. 

“Ow! Ow ow ow!!” Snotlout went running for a bucket of water. 

“I see we have work to do over here…” Hiccup muttered. 

—-

After cataloging what he needed to cover with the other riders about training their dragons (especially if he wanted to keep them from burning the village down), it was off to the forge. 

“What do you think?” Gobber held up the prototype leg. “I call it ‘making my way downtown 2.0.’”

“Uh, kinda long name. What about ‘Hiccup’s leg’?” Hiccup deadpanned. 

“I thought you liked naming contraptions.” 

“I do! But…this one is my leg. I don’t feel right naming it, or any part of my body, for that matter.” 

“Most men would disagree, but that’s your prerogative, I suppose.” He hobbled over to the workbench where Toothless’ tail rig was laid out, mostly assembled. “Now, I followed your surprisingly detailed blueprints and replicated the prosthetic tailfin you made. Real masterpiece, there!” 

“Thank you, I learned from the best.” Hiccup smiled.

Gobber poked him in the chest. “You tryin’ to flatter me? You tryin’ to butter me up?” 

“No, no! Why would you think that?” He grinned. 

“Alright you little bugger.” He rubbed his head affectionately. “There’s just one part of the tail left, and then all that’s left is for you to heal.” He held up the stirrup, and showed that the leg clicked into place.

“Wow, that’s great!” 

“At first, I couldn’t get it to stay locked in, now I’m having a hard time getting it to unlock. Might cause a bit of a problem when trying to dismount!” 

“Oh, I see. Can I work on it?” 

“I was hoping you’d say that. Got lots of folks asking for work to be done. I didn’t want to put this off, because it's a matter of you and Toothless getting around.” 

“I appreciate it so much, Gobber. I can iron out the little kinks. Gothi still says I have a month before I can try a prosthesis anyways.” 

“Lots of time to tinker, huh?” 

“I have to. I’m going stir crazy. Astrid and I already redesigned our new house three times. I think we finally made a perfect design, but if I don’t have another project, I’m liable to change it again.” 

Gobber laughed. “You’re not able to walk around and you’re already designing a new house? What’s wrong with the old one?” 

“It’s on Spitelout’s property. He wants it back. He jokingly said I could take the house and move it…which I’m starting to consider. Except I think it’d be funny to leave the giant bed there. That and the basement were the only things Snotlout wanted.” 

“I’d love to see the look on his face when he wakes up and sees a hole with a bed in it.” 

Hiccup stayed at the forge for the rest of the day. Toothless laid at his feet and he diligently worked. 

Only when the Green Death (that’s what the Twins started calling it, and the name caught on, “cause it’s green and Hiccup almost died”) made her dinner time call, did Hiccup realize how busy he had been. Excited, he scooted across the forge to watch. 

The Green Death surfaced from the water, dumped a load of fish on the cliff next to the forge, and then retreated. She climbed up the slope to the volcano and slipped inside, retiring for the night. It never got any less amazing to watch this behemoth dragon at work. She had submitted to Toothless’ call, and now she was almost docile. 

The rest of the village came alive then. Dragons swarmed the fish, while vikings started heading back home for the evening. Yes, the old queen had definitely found her place in the village, and life on Berk was peaceful. 

For like a week. 

Because of Hiccup’s condition, Astrid and Hiccup and Valka and Stoick had switched houses. There was no way to get Hiccup up the stairs, and no way to get their bed down the stairs. So switching for a month was the compromise they came up with. 

For the two weeks of their marriage, Hiccup and Astrid had shared the largest bed on Berk. One the size of a room. Now, they were sharing Hiccup’s old bed, that was teen sized. 

Neither of them complained, as it was nice to be close, especially as it started to get colder.

So here they were, fast asleep in the main room, holding onto each other as they softly snored.

Before dawn had broken, horns and bells started blaring. All the signs of a raid. 

Astrid bolted up, immediately awake. Toothless, who was on the floor nearby, also popped to wakefulness. 

“Babe,” Astrid shook Hiccup. “Babe!” 

“Hu-huh?” He blinked rapidly. 

“There’s a raid!” 

He scoffed, turning back over. “You’re having a nightmare.” 

“I’m serious! Listen!” 

He paused, then heard the shouting as well. He sat up quickly. “A dragon raid?” 

“Couldn’t be, right?” 

“We need to get out there!” Hiccup beckoned Toothless over and climbed onto his back. 

“You’re not supposed to be flying!” She chastised. 

“I can’t! But we need to move! Hop on!” 

She obeyed, climbing on behind him and taking hold of his waist, before Toothless took off bounding outside. 

Stoick was at the square, with several vikings surrounding him with torches and weapons. There were several dragons around, but not raiding. Rather, they were waiting for instructions to help. 

“What’s going on?” Hiccup asked, trying to get his father’s attention. 

Instead, his mother answered, coming up to their side. “A raid. A viking raid. About two dozen ships.” 

Hiccup swallowed thickly. Leave it to these neanderthals to declare a war right after one was finished. 

“Can we tell who?” Asked Astrid. 

“Outcasts,” said Valka. “Led by Alvin the Treacherous. He’s had a beef with your father for years.” 

Hiccup beckoned Toothless closer to Stoick, listening to what the man was saying. 

“Bucket and Mulch will take the elderly and children to Thor’s beach. The rest of you, gather weapons and prepare to board those ships.” 

“But chief, we don’t have enough ships in our fleet to take them on.” 

“Dad—” Hiccup tried to speak up. 

“Not now Hiccup.” Stoick held up a hand. “It will have to do. We’ll simply have to designate people to steer and push off so we can board multiple ships at a time.” 

“Dad!” 

“Not now, Hiccup! You shouldn’t even be out of bed! We’ll handle this!”  

Hiccup understood his father’s worry, even if it was unfounded. He started to formulate his own plan, then snapped his fingers. “Of course, it’s so simple.” 

“What’s simple?” Asked Astrid. 

Hiccup leaned down to talk to Toothless, “take us to the cliffside.” 

Toothless complied and bounded over to the grassy edge. From here, they could see the little lights on the ocean from the ships. Hiccup slipped off the saddle and sat on the grass still covered in dew. 

“What are we doing?” Asked Astrid, crouching next to him.  

“Getting a front row seat.” Hiccup smirked. “Toothless, sorry I can’t help you fly there, but I think our new friend can help with our problem. Try to tell her to frighten them first, and then start smashing. This isn’t a buffet.” 

Toothless yipped and wagged his tail. He did an excited little circle before bounding off towards the forest. His call echoed, blasting out over and over and farther and farther away. 

“Wait, you don’t mean…” Astrid pointed towards the mountain. 

“Yep.” 

Stoick came running over. “Son, what is your dragon up to?” 

“Oh, you’ll see.” 

The ground started rumbling. People began shouting in fear, and some who realized what was happening, in premature victory. 

The Green Death burst from her volcano with a fireball and an echoing roar. 

“Oh, nice entrance!” Hiccup complimented. 

The dragon leapt from the volcano and into the ocean, creating a great wave. 

Gobber joined them at the cliffside, spyglass in hand. “They’re panickin’. Probably wettin’ themselves.” 

Stoick rested his hands on his hips. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” 

The lights on the water shifted, and some went out as the wave hit them. Distantly, they could hear the invaders shouting. 

The Green Death submerged under the water, and seemingly disappeared. 

“Oh, she’s fun,” said Gobber.��

The rest of the town who had gathered in the square, were now watching from the cliffs, still with weapons and torches in hand just in case, but just watched in awe. 

The great beast burst forth from the ocean, right in front of the armada, and blew another fireball into the sky. 

At that point, Toothless returned from his trip, panting. 

“Just in time to see the finale, bud.” Hiccup scratched him heartily. 

Toothless enjoyed the scratch, but didn’t relax completely. He kept his eyes on the battle below, and prepared to intervene. 

But the Green Death only dove back into the water and retreated. 

Whole ships were on fire, but those that could move had turned and were making a hasty retreat from Berk’s waters. 

“Well, that was fun.” Gobber shrugged. “I think I still have time to sleep before I have to be in the forge.” 

Slowly, carefully, the Green Death emerged once again, but this time right in front of the cliffs. Close enough to touch. 

So Hiccup did. He reached his hand out and touched her, scratching her hide, though it probably felt like a tickle of a gnat. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl!? Who’s a force of nature? It’s you! It’s you!” 

The Green Death made an almost happy chuffing noise. 

“Hey dad, do we have any boar or deer carcasses in the food storage?”

“What? Are you telling me you want to give her a treat?” 

“I think she deserves it!” 

So, they gave her two boars and an elk, before she retreated back to the volcano to sleep. Those were supposed to be food for winter, but considering she stopped a seemingly unbeatable raid, no one was too cut up about it. 

Seeing the giant dragon in action like that, seeing that she could be reasoned with and persuaded to help gave Hiccup some ideas. 

Another week later, he decided to try to experiment. 

He was good with that, afterall. 

When the Green Death made her morning tribute of fish, he called out to her. “H-hey Green! How’s it going?” 

The Green Death looked at him, this tiny toothpick of a human, balancing with two other toothpicks holding him up. 

“I have a favor, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

—-

Astrid awoke to rumbling. A different, much closer rumbling. Hiccup wasn’t in bed, and she had a horrible feeling that he was responsible.

She burst from the house, stumbling down the steps. 

Hiccup was right there on the grassy hill, using crutches instead of the wheelchair. 

“Hiccup?” She squawked. 

“That’s good, yep…keep going…that should do it!” He was talking to the giant, giving directions like one would to builders. 

The Green Death had a talon in the cliffs bordering the Great Hall. She had burrowed a hole through one side and out the other, exiting on the hill behind the chief’s house. 

“W-what?” Astrid asked. 

“I had a different idea for our house, you’re going to love it!” He gushed. 

“H-H-Hiccup?!” 

“Alright!” He called to the Green Death. “Just one more thing!” He leapt on Toothless’ back and rode him across the square over to their old house. 

“You can’t be serious,” Astrid drawled. 

Apparently he was, as he pointed at it and said, “alright, pick this one up!” 

Toothless barked what was probably a translation. 

The Green Death squinted her several eyes and tilted her head. Then slowly reached over the entirety of the village with her dizzyingly large leg. 

Gods this dragon was enormous. 

She pinched the house with her claws, crushing the sides, but lifted it up anyway. 

Then Toothless pounced back to the hillside, where Astrid stood. 

“Alright, set it down here, gently!” 

The Green Death tilted her head the other way, and swung the house over, and dropped it none too gently on the grass. 

“Careful!” 

The beast lifted her head to the sky and gave a head pounding rumble. 

She was laughing. 

“Alright, that’s enough from you!” Hiccup chastised. 

Now, Astrid spotted the dead elk on the grass, and watched as Toothless tossed it up to the beast, who chomped it up with a sickening snap. Then she retreated to the ocean once more. 

After a minute of shocked silence, Astrid yelled, “what the hell was that!?” 

Hiccup seemed to just now notice her. “Oh! Morning honey! I came up with a new idea for our house! You’re going to love it!” 

“You already said that.” 

“I did? Oh. Well, I was too excited! Did you see that?! She did exactly what Toothless told her! She likes red meat, so giving her a treat encourages her to listen to Toothless!”

“So I saw…” 

He pulled out a blueprint from under his arm. “Okay, so I took your basic floorplan, but I had an idea. What if we built into the cliff? Look, I added this launchpad, and it connects to a stable for the dragons—”

Astrid stood on her tippy toes and kissed him, restarting his brain. 

“Babe,” she giggled. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy you’re inspired, but please…can we work on getting you standing on two feet first before you start renovating the village?” 

He smiled at her. “I suppose I could take it easy.”  

[thenightling]

Semi-irrationally angry at some of the Good Omens fandom

I haven't been feeling well so it may be effecting my mood. (I just got out of the hospital last week with something similar to shingles, a new IBD diagnosis, and then caught Covid in the hospital). Anyway, recently someone asked Neil Gaiman (on Tumblr) if being gay is a sin in the Good Omens universe. Of course Neil Gaiman said no. However, this weirdly earned a backlash in the fandom where some fans pointed out that there are anti-gay slurs in the Good Omens novel. ...and? That doesn't mean that they are right and that being gay IS a sin in the Good Omens universe. To me that's like saying "But this story has racism so that must mean the racists are correct and that race IS inferior and deserves to be oppressed." In the very first season of Good Omens (the one based directly on the novel) we have God, herself, narrating. And it's pretty obvious that God ships Aziraphale and Crowley, it's all part of her "ineffable plan." What disturbs and angers me is the strange sense that some of these Good Omens fans WANT that entire universe (including God) to be anti-Gay / anti-Queer / homophobic and yes, being gay is a sin in that universe. But why? Why would you want this? This isn't just wanting angst for your fan fictions. This is saying "I want this entire group to feel that they should not exist." It's not being an ally. And I can't wrap my mind around other queer people wanting this. It almost feels like an oppression kink. "No, no. no. EVERYONE needs to hate them, even God! I want my fan fic to be sad!" This weird and apparent desire to want homosexuality to be portrayed as wrong BY people who like Aziraphle and Crowley as a couple is very harmful. There's enough real-world bigotry from human beings. We don't need a fantasy world where God hates gays. And I'm ashamed and disgusted by the behavior of some of this fandom.

[no-where-new-hero]

On this fine Sunday afternoon, I shall sit down with my scripture (Emily of New Moon) and perform my devotions (catch up on book club commentary). In the interest of space, I'll try to keep this short.

Chapter 9: A Special Providence

The knack of turning this novel epistolary with the Father letters is one of LMM's best narrative decisions because she is, at heart, a voice writer, and I just saw in the lovely interview on craft that @gogandmagog posted that LMM loved writing in first person despite discouragement from her editors, so this way she gets to have her cake and eat it too. She also establishes Emily as a woman of text, specifically, as opposed to Anne, who got away with first person narration through non-stop chatter. Emily as a character is much quieter and more introverted, so her ability to blither through letter-writing kills many birds with one stone. It's also astronomically funny.

"I felt so insulted that I came up to the garret and wrote a deskription of myself being drowned on a letter-bill and then I felt better." Legitimately, Emily has died so much in her imagination in the course of nine chapters. You'd think her self-dramatization would be for good things, but no, she gets her revenge on people through self-destruction. Which is very funny as a child but also sets up her depressive nature as an adult very well.

Chapter 10: Growing Pains

Reading Rhoda's betrayal hurts every time! Also since the last time I read this, I went through a Rhoda experience of my own, soooo yeah not fun. Interestingly, I think Rhoda is the only one who gets a definite birthday other than Emily in the whole book. She doesn't reflect well on Cancers 💀

"Just cut a good big bang. Lots of the girls have their hair banged clean from the crown of their heads." This description always confused me because that kind of style sounds like a description of the "Dutch boy bob" that only came into fashion 30 years later (in the 20s). Also when I Googled hair being "shingled" it's basically also a bob? Maybe more of what we'd consider a pixie cut today, though it seems to be referred to as a "shingle bob" and therefore close enough to what Emily would have wanted. (I am a bit obsessed by how the "Pringle shingle" anticipated the 90s Winona Ryder style pixie cut craze). Though of course Aunt Elizabeth wouldn't have done this cut with any style in any case lol.

Chapter 11: Ilse

Emily aka Jane Eyre fanfiction strikes again. This is, though, a rare instance of New Moon itself being hostile to Emily in a way that isn't ever shown elsewhere. Though the house represents the motherliness that Emily lacks from people, it also has its dark patches that Emily must rebel against, though she only thinks she rebelling against Aunt Elizabeth.

Oh, Ilse my beloved. She has many endearing lines that show the depth of her neglect, but I think this one hit most for me this time: "And you won't be ashamed of me because my clothes are always queer and because I don't believe in God?" I also love how both she and Emily know exactly what their futures will be at this moment and both succeed in them.

Chapter 12: The Tansy Patch

I never focus much on the descriptions in this book because they come thick and fast, but I noticed this time how many flowers grow around the Tansy Patch, nearly suffocating the built structures. This is a place of surface beauty if festering neglect--much like Mrs. Kent's treatment of Teddy.

"He washes the dishes for her and helps her in all the house work. Ilse says the boys in school call him sissy for that but I think it is noble and manley of him." LMM saying fuck gender roles.

"I guess Ilse wants Teddy to like her best but she is not a jellus girl." The love triangle begins.

"I read the story of Red Riding Hood to-day. I think the wolf was the most intresting caracter in it. Red Riding Hood was a stupid little thing so easily fooled." RIP Emily Starr, you would have loved Angela Carter.

Reader, I did not keep this short. Second post incoming soon.

[kilroyart]

As a yearly tradition at this point. I put on a special Halloween DnD one-shot. This year in particular there were enough people interested from outside my normal group that I had enough for two full parties. Friends of friends or co-workers that were interested in seeing what all the talk was about. I couldn't possibly have 10 people at my table, not including myself. So I split them in to two separate days, for the Saturday and Sunday before Halloween.

Now I take great care in crafting a theme for the one-shot. I think about it way ahead of time. This year I got my inspiration through an nothing in particular conversation with my girlfriend who mentioned the phrase "mimic house". It was a spark in my mind immediately and had to play it cool and not explode with enthusiasm, as she would be one of the future players. Since mid-August I plotted and schemed and researched and homebrewed.

By early September my premise was set and a whole Mimic theme was set forth. Now I knew the jig would be up if everything they encountered was a mimic in different forms. Instead I scrounged for monsters which appear mundane until they decide to strike. Vine blights, animated armors, and of course a standard mimic chest made their way in.

The mystery was set up to look like a haunting. Some noble's manor was experiencing supernatural threats. Any and all poltergeist type manifestations still work, especially if everything is mimicry. The progression was structured by finding the correct keys for the correct doors or locks. Any attempts at picking were futile, as the lock simple moved the pins out of the way making it impossible. I banked on my player's better judgement to not try battering down doors, which paid off. Find the key, unlock the door to find the next key.

At the end they found the hidden sub-basement. The house's heart dangled. Tendons would lash out and attack the players. After a bit of damage on the heart, the entire house would reveal itself to be a gargantuan mimic and run off.

The boss fight took place in the woods as the mimic house thrashed about. The wooden siding and shingles were invulnerable, but the fleshy underside was exposed. The heart itself was vulnerable to slashing and piercing damage, balancing the fight for the lv 6 party. The only way to fight it was to get underneath the house. That is also where the mimic could whip with its tendrils or thrust jagged wooden planks.

It was a great time, across two very different parties. It was also very interesting seeing how different groups approached the same problems; I have never run the same campaign twice. Everyone enjoyed the classic mimic chest, carefully hidden in the attic, and all were blown away by the surprise and scale of the mimic house.

P.S. Credit to the movie Monster House for its unconscious influence. I didn't realize the resemblance or remember the movie until early October when I mentioned the concept to a friend (who was not a player) and they brought it up. Love that movie.